


A different type of exam

by Sansastarklives



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-14
Updated: 2013-06-14
Packaged: 2017-12-14 23:56:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/842902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sansastarklives/pseuds/Sansastarklives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa is furious to find that Petyr wants her examined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A different type of exam

“What was that?” Sansa demanded as she barged into Petyr’s solar. Her dull brown hair had been hastily tied into a messy ponytail and she was still wearing her night clothes. Her face was a fierce red and her Tully eyes narrowed, full of anger and something else. Embarrassment. She didn’t move from the door, she couldn’t. After the words had left her lips, she found that no more would form.  
Petyr stared at her with a blank expression, never giving anything away. Slowly a smirk laced his lips as his grey green eyes looked at her from head to toe. She has obviously just gotten out of bed. ‘Amazing,’ he thought to himself. ‘She still looks pretty when she looks a mess.’ That made his smirk grow even more.  
Sansa groaned when she saw his grin. “Well?” She whispered voice still full of anger. She had been woken by a maid, who had informed her that her father, the Lord of the Vale, wished for her to be examined. At first she hadn’t understood, but that changed as soon as the man walked into the room. He wanted to see if she still had her maidenhead. The blood had rushed to Sansa’s cheeks so fast that she had felt dizzy. She did as she was told and lay there while she was examined. The man had left without saying a word to her: not that she needed him to; she knew that she still had it. She had waited a full five minutes before leaving her chambers, still in her night clothes, but she didn’t care.  
“You asked me that day on the boat. You asked me if my marriage-” Petyr leaped across the room from his desk and slammed his hand over her mouth.  
“Hush, sweetling. We don’t want anyone to know the truth now, do we? Not after months of hiding our little secret?” His voice was sharp, yet low in her ear. Sansa was in shock, from the speed of his movement, but his words caused her to come back to life. She bit down as hard as she could on his hand. He pulled it away quickly, eyes wide and full of surprise.  
“You asked me if my marriage had been consummated.” She whispered, her voice as sharp as a blade. “And I told you. I told you, Petyr. Why couldn’t you just believe me?”  
“I had to make sure, sweetling. My plans would have changed slightly otherwise. I needed to know for certain.” His voice was calm, his mask still intact and Sansa couldn't help but wonder how he did that.  
"You could have TOLD me, instead of leaving it until I was woken up for the exam!" She shrieked. "Imagine how I felt when that stranger just came into my room this morning!" She whispered angrily. He grinned again. That smug little grin was the final straw for Sansa. She lifted her hand and swung it full force, but Petyr must have been anticipating that, because in one quick movement he could her wrist and spun her around. He was behind her, her arm held tightly in place across her chest. Petyr's other hand moved around her stomach, keeping her from moving. He leaned on to her right shoulder, mouth beside her ear. She could hear the smile in his words.  
"Ah. I'm sorry, sweetling. I thought that if I told you, you would have protested." His voice was mocking. "If it was the stranger who bothered you..." He trailed off. Sansa didn't notice his hand move, until it was lifting up her skirts. She squirmed, but it didn't stop him.  
"Stop it, Petyr." She whispered, but it was half hearted. She gasped in surprise at her own voice: why hadn't she said it properly? Petyr leaned into her neck, planting a light kiss on her soft skin. His fingers were at her small clothes now. His light fingers stroked them, making Sansa moan quietly in response. His teeth nipped gently as her skin. He slipped his fingers beneath her small clothes and teased at her entrance. Sansa's head dropped against his shoulder, but Petyr did not move from her neck. His kiss was harder this time, as he pushed his fingers into her. A moan grew in Sansa's throat, her her teeth sinking into her lower lip to stop the noise from escaping her mouth.  
She could feel something building inside her, and she wanted to let go so badly. Then when she was SO close, he pulled away, returning to his desk.  
"Good, you still have it." He said matter-of-factly, nodding his head as he spoke. Sansa stood still in shock, her mouth hanging open as she panted. After a moment she brushed her night dress down and turned to leave. "Sweetling," he called out. She turned to see him pointed at his cheek. She lightly kissed it before rushing out of the room, face still burning.


End file.
